


Looks Good on You

by SolarMorrigan



Category: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012), Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith
Genre: Established Relationship, Height Differences, M/M, Size Difference, i dunno, no one seems surprised, or maybe more like, surprise! it's more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Abe is perfectly willing to go back to sleep after the morning is disturbed by a delivery. Then Henry has to go and borrow his shirt.
Relationships: Abraham Lincoln/Henry Sturges
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Looks Good on You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of combining the lingering thought of the height difference between Abe and Henry, my amusement with how grumpy Henry was about being called out of bed by the police in TLAV, and the high that comes with remembering that I am A Creator and I can write whatever the hell I want
> 
> Takes place in something like present day, let's just pretend Abe is still around

Abe woke to the sound of the doorbell and the resulting sound of Henry grumbling against the nape of his neck. He took a moment to regain his bearings, glancing at the clock in the artificial darkness of the blackout drapes and calculating the day.

“Delivery,” he mumbled to Henry after a moment.

“Too early,” Henry muttered in return, the “r” smoothed out by the accent that only poked its head out when Henry had been traveling. “They can leave it on the doorstep.”

“It’s that computer you ordered. They won’t leave it,” Abe reminded him.

The bell sounded again, followed by a knock on the door.

Henry grumbled again, pressing his forehead to the back of Abe’s neck and tightening his arm around Abe’s waist.

“You can get up now, or you can go pick it up at the post office later,” Abe said. “Pretty sure the deliveryman is about to walk away, though.”

With a final frustrated grunt, Henry dragged himself out from beneath the covers, leaving Abe smiling into his pillow as he listened to Henry collect his clothes from the floor where they’d been scattered just a few hours before and then take the stairs at an inhuman speed to catch the deliveryman before he left. It never failed to amuse Abe how petulant Henry could be, even at the age of nearly 450, when his sleep was disturbed.

He could hear Henry calling the man at the door back, speaking with as much politeness as he was willing to muster while half asleep, shutting and locking the door, depositing a box onto a table (the kitchen table, by the sound of it), and stumping back up the stairs. The entire interlude took perhaps two minutes, but Abe was already back in the muzzy space of near-sleep when Henry returned to him, shedding clothes and sliding under the covers to burrow against Abe’s back.

Something was different.

Abe shifted against Henry, prompting Henry to lazily spread his hand out across Abe’s sternum, stroking idly with his thumb, as if to quiet Abe back into restfulness. As he did so, Abe could feel the brush of cotton between Henry’s palm and his chest. Fabric, where there had been only skin before. Abe opened his eyes and glanced down, seeing the blue of the button-down shirt he’d been wearing the day before.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Abe asked, brows furrowed as his tired mind worked to tick things into place.

“What?” Henry mumbled, less a question and more probably an automatic response as he drifted on the edge of sleep himself.

Curiosity now piqued, Abe turned in Henry’s grasp to get a look at him in the dim of the room. Henry sighed and let Abe go in order to roll onto his back and slant an annoyed glance at him. “What?” he asked again.

“You _are_ wearing my shirt.”

And nothing else, by the looks of it.

Abe had heard Henry shucking a pair of jeans by the bedroom door, as well as replacing some sunglasses on the dresser, but the shirt had stayed.

Two of the buttons in the middle were fastened in order to preserve whatever modesty Henry had felt necessary for answering the door, though Abe couldn’t imagine it had preserved _much_ – the shirt was very clearly too large for Henry.

Lying back against the pillows, the shirt gaped at Henry’s shoulders, exposing his neck and collarbones and a portion of his chest while the sleeves lolled down past his wrists. The ends of the shirt hit him at mid-thigh, one tail draped well enough down his middle to—and if Abe didn’t know any better, he’d say _artfully_ —cover his prick while the other tail pooled on the bed by his bare hip.

He looked every inch like some kind of staged pinup, and when Abe managed to drag his eyes back up, Henry had the smirk to match.

“I grabbed it because it was closest, and I was in a hurry. But if I’d known you would appreciate it so much, I would have stolen one of your shirts much sooner,” Henry teased.

“I don’t know if we have to go as far as theft.” Abe sat up and turned to face Henry, letting the blankets crumple behind him as he tossed one leg over Henry’s thighs and knelt over him, the better to appreciate the picture he presented. “It’s an interesting look for you, though.”

“Interesting?” Henry raised his brows, going on dryly, “my, but you do know how to flatter a man, Abraham.”

Abe leaned in, nosing at Henry’s temple. “Well, it’s certainly holding _my_ interest,” he murmured there, before ducking lower to press his lips to the juncture of Henry’s shoulder.

He could smell himself on Henry there, with his nose pressed into his own shirt collar and his mouth to Henry’s skin, and without any conscious input from his own mind Abe parted his lips and bit down. Henry gasped at the unexpected scrape of dull teeth, but Abe made it clear with the transition into sharp, sucking kisses that his intention was not to break skin, but to bruise it; bruises never lasted long, but there was something about the livid red-purple marks against Henry’s pale complexion that pleased Abe to see.

(He had resolved to stop worrying about what that meant for his psyche long ago; in the grand scheme of things he’d done since his death, admitting to an enjoyment of marking up his lover was hardly even worth a raised eyebrow.)

Mouth working at Henry’s neck, Abe’s fingers went to task on the two buttons holding his shirt closed, popping them open in quick succession and then delving beneath the parted fabric. Hands ghosted up over Henry’s stomach, over his ribs, brushed over his nipples and pulled a pleased groan from him as the shirt was pushed open and to the side.

Abe pulled back to admire his handiwork. It was a very nice picture.

Henry was a sturdily-built man, slender without being slight, and of a height that now technically hovered a few inches below average (though he found no humor in Abe pointing that out); there was a lean muscle to him that would have been strength on a human, and this without adding the abilities of a formidably-aged vampire into the mix. As he stared up at Abe now, though, fading bruises on his neck, Abe’s broad hands spread across his ribcage, Abe’s too-large shirt framing him, something about him seemed very agreeably _small_.

“If you intend on proceeding—and you’d better—you really should let me take off the shirt,” Henry spoke up.

“ _No_ ,” Abe denied, probably a little too quickly. “Leave it on.”

“And risk ruining it?” Henry asked, all sardonic concern. “It’s a nice shirt.”

“Call it an acceptable loss,” Abe said, and Henry’s laughter rang across the bedroom until Abe leaned in and cut him off with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, I am on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/). Don't be put off by the deluge of Hades fanart coming out of my queue, I'd honestly still love to talk about these idiots


End file.
